The Morning After
by Not Just A Reader - A Fangirl
Summary: <html><head></head>Remus takes down all his reservations and precautions, then feels the guilt for it the morning after. RemusxHermione oneshote. Hot make-out scenes, but nothing further than that. Read&Review! :D</html>


**A/N: Hey, guys!**

**So, it's been a while. This story was actually written a long while ago. Like, two months ago. But it is my first RemusxHermione story (because I got addicted to that ship), and also contains what is probably my most...explicit (?) kissing/makeout scenes I've ever written. So yeah, that's why I wasn't in such a hurry to post it. **

**Well, without further ado, enjoy my sauciest story to date.**

~.oOo.~

Remus woke up in bed with a pounding in his head and a warm body in his bed.

Upon closer inspection, he managed to discern, over the pounding of the African drum troupe inside his head, that it was probably so warm because their bodies were pressed tight to each other beneath the soft duvet. He could feel, even with his eyes closed, their body heat permeating the almost non-existent space between them.

Being naked probably helps with that as well.

All this registered in his groggy brain in less than a second, and he moved on to the next most important thing; who this person was. He could tell it was a girl with all her soft curves pressed against his body (and the chances weren't high that he would sleep with a guy), but it was more important just who he had slept with the previous night. (For a moment he really was quite surprised that he had managed to lure in a woman at all — he must have been very, very drunk.)

He snuggled in involuntarily to get more of the warmth, chilly morning that it was, and that's when it hit him. The flowery scent, mixed in with just a hint of perfume (probably left from the previous evening), filled his nose, just as a soft, curly mass of _something _tickled his cheeks.

Hair.

Only one person could have hair _that_ frizzy.

~.oOo.~

_"Hello, Remus." _

_He found Hermione sashaying towards him from the other end of the broad terrace at the back of Malfoy Manor, a half-full glass of red wine in her hand. _

_"Hello, Hermione."_

_Anyone could have told she was drunk. Her confident, unknowingly sexy walk that drove him crazy with want whenever she was in the room, was slightly wobbly. More than slightly; she nearly stumbled into him._

_"What are you doing out here?" she asked. "All alone."_

_"I was just taking a break from all the revelries inside," he referred to the soiree in the Malfoys' ancestral home. In all honesty, he was telling the truth. It was late, he was tired, and it was close to the full moon, which only made him more restless and edgy than normal. All that made for a mood not suitable for a social event. Thus, the quiet, overlooked balcony had seemed, and proved to be, a sufficient, if temporary, escape. Until now, at least._

_"Why? It's such fun." Her lips were curled into a smile so innocent, her eyes holding a twinkle so pure, that it hit him in the gut, the guilt about his feelings for her. No matter how many times he told himself it was wrong for him to be attracted to her, how much of a lecherous old man it made him, it didn't go away._

_He smiled wryly._

_"Not for me." He turned away and leaned against the railing of the balcony, gazing up at the clear summer night sky. "At least, not right now."_

_"Oh." She had followed his gaze. "I'm sorry." She must have noticed the silvery moon, floating in the sky like a lotus on the still water of a pond. "I didn't realise."_

_"It's alright." He took a sip from his own glass, seeing, from the corner of his eye, her do the same._

_And then it was silence. They each were lost in the maze-like forests of their own thoughts, each gazing up at the night sky. Remus could feel himself getting drunker and drunker, though his glass wasn't finished. He had drunk a lot before coming out to the balcony. He could also feel her beside him, almost leaning on him for support as she, as well, became more and more drunk. She was so close, her body felt so warm, her scent so intoxicating - it was hard to hold back Moony when the full moon was so close. It was harder to resist Hermione around the full moon._

_"Let's go somewhere else, then, if you don't want to be here."_

_He turned back to her, wary. Her voice was definitely drunk. He could only remember seeing her this drunk once, and that was only because she was halfway to depressed. His eyes were drawn immediately to her glass that was threatening to spill onto the marble underneath their feet. Through his alcohol-induced haze, he was perplexed to find her glass, despite having been drank from for the past quarter hour, still half full._

_"How is your glass is still full?"_

_Hermione glanced the offending object, shrugged nonchalantly, and said, "These glasses refill magically. Didn't you know?"_

_He only pondered this for a second, before replying no, he didn't know, and turning back to the railing._

_Seconds later he felt a warmth by his back, a hand on his waist, and then her voice in his ear._

_"Remus. Why won't you look at me?"_

_He turned around, fully intent on pushing her away and walking back into the crowded ball room, no matter how hard it would be to do it and see her hurt expression afterwards._

_He was prevented from doing so by a pair of warm lips on his._

_He certainly wasn't expecting it, but her sure yet curious brush on his lips sent his brain trickling down the drain, and wrecked all his self-imposed precautionary walls down to pieces. This moment, this feeling, of her lips pressed against his, had been imagined for so long, that the reality made him lose his mind._

_He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her back with hot, unadulterated passion that he could barely hold back. He nibbled on her lower lip as she raked her hand through his hair, before letting his tongue flick against her lower lip, then brush it. She opened her mouth for him, letting a soft sigh of pleasure._

_That brought him back to reality. Instantaneously, he remembered who he was kissing - Hermione Granger, Harry's best friend, a witch twenty years his junior, young enough to be his daughter, who was also drunk._

_Maybe he would have acted on his feelings if the circumstances were different, but he certainly would not when she was drunk._

_He pulled away without warning, pushing her back while ignoring the wolf inside him that was howling and raging at him for this - although try as he might, he wasn't willing to let go of her; his hands remained on her waist._

_"Hermione," he attempted, his voice husky and rough. He cleared his throat. "Hermione, you're drunk. You should go home."_

_"Then take me home."_

_She stepped closer to him, and placed a hand on his chest. Moony howled and growled his content and approval, while Remus took a deep breath, turning his head to the side, to try to prevent himself from taking this woman against the wall. He dared not look into her eyes. Before he could even breathe out, she pulled herself up and started placing kisses on his jaw, making a searing trail of butterfly kisses up his jaw, then behind his ear, then - _

_He pulled away._

_"Hermione, don't." At last he let himself meet her eyes, trying to make himself look stern and serious. He saw her eyes widen, and then all of a sudden, he could find almost no sign of drunkenness that was there earlier. If anyone else looked, he imagined they would barely be able to say she was tipsy. "You'll regret it in the morning." _

_"How would you know that?"_

_"You're drunk."_

_Her head cocked to one side._

_"It's amazing how easily one can convince another that one is drunk. Or vice-versa."_

_So which was she?_

_Hermione looked him square in the eye, alert as she was every morning when she came down for breakfast. _

_"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. To kiss you. So let me. I know you want it, too."_

_Usually, she wouldn't be so bold to him, he knew that. But she was tipsy at least, and Sirius always said alcohol was liquid courage. Vaguely, he wondered if his ardour had been that obvious._

_But now, the more rebellious, Marauder-like side of him was whispering, _why not? _And he was considering it. If she wants it, why not? She wasn't drunk, she was still sober enough to know what she was doing._

_Or was she? He couldn't risk it._

_"Stop," she said. "Stop thinking. Just go with the moment."_

_And now she was looking intently, intensely, her eyes burning with passion, and Remus realised what she wanted. She wasn't going to start it this time. He had to do it._

_That tipsy glaze was still there, but at this point, he didn't care anymore._

_He pulled her to him and crushed her lips to his, turning around and pressing her to the railing. She responded back all too eagerly, kissing him hard and raking through his sandy hair in one hand while the other gripped the back of his neck. His hands went to her hips, clutching them and pulling them to his, making her gasp into his mouth. His hands tugged at the curly hair at the nape of her neck, making her throw her head back, exposing the slender column of pale flesh of her neck for his - and her - pleasure. His lips descended to her jaw, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up her jaw and trailing to her neck, making her gasp all the while at the feeling of his hot mouth on her skin._

_She leaned into his ear and whispered, "Take me home."_

_So he Apparated them to Grimmauld Place and took her to his bed._

~.oOo.~

His eyes cracked open with apprehension as his stomach sunk. The events of last night was like a thousand-piece puzzle with half the pieces missing and the other half damaged. But now as his groggy, hungover brain fully recovered his memories, he wished he didn't remember it after all.

Gazing at her sleeping form in his arms, he was struck suddenly by how young she was. Her face, tranquil and serene in slumber, seemed a decade younger that she was. All of a sudden, the image of the defiant, feisty young 13-year-old that he had first met flashed in his head. And now the guilt and shame was festering in his stomach like a manifestation of Flobberworms.

Busy playing with her hair, tucking it behind her ear and stroking the lobe of her ear, he didn't realise she had woken up.

She stirred in his arms, and Remus was sent into a panic attack. _What should he say how is he going to explain this what if she's angry at him oh Merlin she's going to be so angry and she'll regret this so much oh good Lord - _

"Remus?"

She looked slightly confused, glancing around the room. When her eyes fell upon the sheets covering their bodies, her eyes widened. Remus's stomach dropped down to the other end of the bed. He held his breath, waiting for her to say it was a mistake, waiting for her to say she hated him for taking advantage of her, waiting for her to leave and never look at him again.

She looked back up at him, and that was when he saw understanding flash through her eyes. She gave him a soft smile, and much to his surprise, she snuggled against him.

"Good morning."

To say he was surprised would be like saying his monthly terrors were mildly irritating and uncomfortable.

"Good morning," he replied hesitantly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. She didn't seem angry. Maybe this would end well. Maybe he could take the opportunity for what it was.

"Last night was good." He could feel her smile against his skin.

Now what was he supposed to say?

"Hermione, about last night…"

She looked back up at him, her eyes flooded with trepidation.

"You regret it," she stated.

"I…." He found that he couldn't say a word. "Do you?"

He could see her eyes slowly filling in with hurt.

"Only because I knew you would react like this."

She sighed and moved away from him. She held the sheet to her body as she looked around for her clothes, before spotting her dress lying on the floor near the bed and grabbing it to cover herself as she rushed to the bathroom.

He felt horrible.

Lying on his back, the air, even underneath the blanket, felt cold without her body next to his. He cursed himself for letting things get this far. He was slightly drunk last night, but it certainly wasn't drunk enough to be unable to prevent…things from happening. He rubbed his face with a calloused hand, feeling like the biggest fool in the world for pushing her away.

_But it was necessary,_ he tried to justify himself. _She was going to regret it and run anyway._

**_Did she look like she regretted it then?_**, a rebellious voice protested at the back of his brain.

_She was drunk, she didn't know what she was doing. As soon as she realises that, she'll go. And then it would hurt._

**_But you're hurt already, pushing her away when you've finally got her. All that time pining, all those dreams come true, and you push the away the thing you've wanted the most for the longest time._**

_She's not a _thing_, to be possessed by anyone. And I didn't 'get' her. Again, she was drunk. It doesn't count._

**_Do you really believe that? "It's amazing how easily one can convince another that one is drunk."_**

_She also said 'vice-versa', so…_

He was interrupted from his debate with that stubborn inner voice (who he really suspected was the wolf rearing its head around the full moon) by Hermione walking out from the bathroom, dressed in last night's clothes. By Merlin - maybe he was too drunk, or too distracted the previous night to notice it, but it was a sexy dress.

The black dress was quite simple and elegant, really, but the back that was entirely made of lace, which creeped around the front and showed glimpses of the creamy skin of her slim side and waist, and the long slit up the side of the skirt that flowed around her slender legs, made his eyes widen and darken with desire. And gods above, she didn't have a bra.

He swallowed and pushed his lechery to the back of his mind, silently chastising himself with his eyes closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he saw Hermione already near the door, trying to put her high heels on without falling.

"Hermione," he called, shuffling out of the bed and hurriedly pulling on his pants. When she managed to get her heels on and started walking out the door, he called out her name again. He walked out up to her and grabbed at her arm. "Hermione, please, wait."

She finally stopped, and turned around, meeting his eyes, though her gaze flickered in and out of them.

"Yes?"

"Hermione, about before, I'm…"

"Remus, it's…"

"No, really, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"Remus, really," she said, a note of finality in her voice. "It's okay. I understand."

"Hermione, no," he said again as she started to pull away. He really wished she wouldn't turn her back on him, because her doing so would let him see her bra-strapless, lace-covered back, and that was _not_ doing wonders for his concentration. "Hermione, I just thought…"

"Do you regret it?"

"I…" he trailed off. The truth was, he wasn't sure.

"Just answer me, Remus," she said. "Do you regret it?"

The answer came to him so quickly he was surprised at himself.

"No," he said slowly.

"But…?"

"But I was scared."

"Scared?"

"That you would."

"Why would you think that I would regret it?"

"Because…well, because you were so drunk last night," Remus explained. "I thought that once you realised what you did, you'd realise it was a mistake."

She frowned.

"So you pushed me away because you were afraid of being a mistake?"

He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I suppose, that's one reason."

Hermione snorted softly, and brought her hand up to his face, cradling it.

"Oh, Remus," she said softly. "You are not a mistake. Didn't you understand what I was saying last night?"

"That thing about making someone believe you were drunk when you actually aren't?"

"Yes."

"But you said vice-versa, too, so I didn't know. I still thought you were drunk. You looked drunk."

Hermione ducked her head and smiled a little guilty smile.

"Well, let's just say I'm a good actor."

"So you don't regret it? I'm not a mistake?"

She looked back up at him, her eyes tender.

"Remus, you would never be a mistake," she said. "Even if I was as drunk as you thought I was last night, you would still not be a mistake. I'd still be…exhilarated that I was lucky enough to be with you."

Remus smiled, then, unable to resist anymore, pressed his lips to hers.

When she eagerly responded, his heart pretty much grew a pair of wings and flew through the ceiling up to Heaven. He hungrily deepened the kiss, suddenly finding himself thirsting for what he had last night. The kiss became a smaller version of the events of the previous night. But as she was trying to take it further, almost choking him with her arms around his neck and pressing her whole body against him, a question popped into his head. He pulled away, making her (honest-to-Merlin) growl with displeasure.

"Hermione," he said, lifting up her face with a finger on her chin. "Why did you make me think you were drunk?"

She looked away, breathing hard.

"I don't…I'm not really sure, to be honest," she said. "I think I was a bit drunk by then, and some part of me was convinced that it was easier to get to you if you thought I was drunk."

"Really?"

She only shrugged. He decided that the fact that if he thought she _was_ drunk, he would not have dared made a move could be mentioned later.

"Am I that unreachable?"

"Maddeningly so."

He brought her face in closer. He let his lips hover teasingly, inches away from hers.

"Well, then, I'm very sorry," he whispered. "And I promise, that from now on, I will never unreachable to you again."

"Well, you are being maddeningly unreachable right now. And I mean maddeningly."

Remus chuckled.

"I'm not very sorry about that," he whispered, letting his lips brush hers ever so slightly. She glared at him.

"Come here, you wolf," she growled, then wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him ravenously, to which he could only respond accordingly.

Definitely one of his better mornings-after.

~.oOo.~

**Review? :] hugs and kisses**


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